


Deliver Us

by championofnone



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, M/M, some characters not in first few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championofnone/pseuds/championofnone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saving Dorian's life from a pride demon at Adamant Fortress, the altus swears he'll repay Hawke however he can. Taking Dorian's desire to reform Tevinter and running with it, Hawke gives Fenris the key to starting up a revolution that could shake Minrathous to the core.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly inspired by the song Deliver Us from the Prince of Egypt soundtrack, I have been in love with the idea of Fenris helping the slaves in Tevinter since DA2 ended. Using the political power Dorian could gain and the power Maevaris already has in Minrathous, a formidable alliance could be formed through Hawke.

Hawke had told the Inquisition he was heading to Weisshaupt, but that wasn’t his final destination. The morning he left Skyhold, he let one of Leliana’s ravens loose towards the Warden headquarters and found passage to head out west.

Why west? Varric had asked before Hawke had left. It was where he last knew Fenris to be, and it was a good a place as any to start tracking him down, Hawke gave in reply. 

So he set off, the small convoy he was with completely unaware that the infamous Champion of Kirkwall was in their company. To them, he was simply Malcolm Amell, a merchant who’d had unlucky fortune since the Breach appeared. It was one of the few times he thanked the Maker he was nearly unrecognizable since he’d grown his stubble into a beard.

It took two weeks to reach the little hovel outside of a town so small no map had a name for it. It’s where he’d last been with Fenris, and Hawke figured he could ask around before trying to find the warrior’s trail. He just hoped Fenris had bothered to leave one, because if he didn’t want to be found, Hawke had no chance of finding him. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to go far with asking before he started getting answers; even while in hiding, Fenris had a tendency to stand out, often just by being one of few, if not the only, elf in an area. The innkeep, a sweet older woman who reminded him of Bethany, had spoken to him only a week ago just before he left town, mentioning he was heading north. Although she didn’t know why, she told Hawke that he looked driven as someone could be, and wished Hawke luck as he set coin down on the counter as thanks for her information. 

“North.” Hawke ran a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself. He could only assume that Varric’s letter had reached Fenris before the man himself could, and he’d begun a trek to Weisshaupt to retrieve Hawke, likely for a tongue lashing. He was able to afford a horse from the town’s stables, and set off on the trail the innkeep had pointed out to him. 

It took two days of pounding through some of the western prairie lands and a day of leading his horse through a dense forest before he finally came across another camp, embers still burning. His pulse leapt - Fenris couldn’t be far now.

Hawke did his best to continue north, but with the tree canopy obscuring the stars almost completely, he was soon lost in the forest, only a summoned wisp and a tired horse for company. 

“Maker’s breath, where in the hell have you gone?” he mumbled, rubbing at his temples. He didn’t want to admit he was worried, he knew Fenris was fully capable of taking care of himself, but controlling his concern wasn’t a strong point of his. It never had been.

“Probably roughly 10 feet above you.”

Hawke jumped, spooking his horse and causing the wisp to skirt around in a jagged pattern around him. It took a moment to calm the whining horse down before he started scanning the branches above him. “Fenris? By roughly, do you mean directly over my head or somewhere off to the side? It makes a difference.” 

There was no response, but after a few seconds, two yellow dots appeared just in front of him and on a branch nearly ten feet in the air. Fenris was sitting on it, appearing to be quite comfortable, but Hawke knew him better. “Hello, love.”

Fenris snorted as he swung backwards, hanging on with his hands until he was comfortable enough to get a solid drop landing, a soft thud sounding his success. “You disappear on me for two months, and  _that’s_ the greeting I get?”

Here it comes. Hawke felt lucky he’d braced himself for this conversation as he dismounted from the horse, his wisp following him at his shoulder. “Can we make camp before we talk? I’d prefer a fire to see you by.” Fenris nodded, and began to gather some wood as Hawke made a make-shift post to tie the horse to for the night, keeping the rope long so the beast could sleep comfortably. Fenris returned after a minute, and Hawke quickly set the wood aflame. 

Luckily, Fenris was not mad at him enough to put the now roaring fire in between them; he sat to Hawke’s immediate left as the Champion stretched his legs out in front of him, toes curling in his boots in front of the fire. 

“I tried writing to Varric to find you, you know,” Fenris’s voice was quiet but firm, arms wrapped around his knees as his chin rested on them, grip tight on his forearms. “I didn’t get a reply until he said you were going to Weisshaupt of all places. I…I thought you might be dead, Hawke. No word, no warning, just snatched away from me. Again.”

“Fenris…,” Hawke’s voice stuck in his throat, aching to reach out and pull his lover to him, but he knows it would not be an appreciated sentiment right now. “Remember some of the information I had been sending Stroud? He got a lead on why everything was going wrong with the Wardens, and I was the only one who knew enough to help him sort the whole mess out. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more before I left, but it turned into a nightmare.”

“The last time you described something as a nightmare, a lot of people died, Hawke.”

“I mean no different now.” Hawke took a breath and steadied himself before continuing. “Corypheus didn’t die. I failed. I didn’t kill him, and the fact that he’s walking, that he’s alive right now, that’s on me. The blood of thousands is on my hands, Fenris, and I don’t think they’re coming clean this time.”

Fenris finally looked over at him, concern overriding any anger he’d been harboring towards Hawke. His hair had gotten a little longer since they’d last seen each other, his bangs near completely covering his eyes now. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t know until it was happening, Fenris. Varric wrote that Skyhold was a good base and that he’d fill me in when I got there, and he did. I knew nothing until the day I arrived. Anyway, we found out that Corypheus was using a false Calling on the Wardens, and that’s why most of the Warden mages were suddenly his thralls. He was building a demon army, and his followers nearly succeeded. The Wardens had a base in the Western Approach, Adamant Fortress, and they’d opened a massive rift there. I’ve never seen so many demons in my life, Fenris, I swear. I kept the Inquisition’s soldiers in line while the Inquisitor found the mage responsible for that mess.”

“It’s always magic,” Fenris scoffed. Hawke gave him a look. “I am sorry. Continue.”

“Thank you. The Inquisitor - I only caught her clan name, Lavellan - got through to some of the Wardens, and they rebelled against their commander, but it was too late. The rift had started…I don’t know what it was doing, but it was doing  _something_ rather nasty, and then a bloody Archdemon appeared. The commander tried fighting off one of Corypheus’s pawns, but the dragon got her before she could kill him. Then the rift exploded, taking us down with the fortress.”

“They can explode?”

“It’s not a pretty sight, believe me. But Fenris, it was…we were in the Fade.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re a mage, Hawke, that’s not unusual for you.”

Hawke shook his head, trying to remember to breathe evenly as he told the story. It still made him shake every time he remembered it, the nightmares often too horrible to make sleeping worth it. “No. When I say we were in the Fade, we were  _physically in the Fade_.” 

“No one’s done that since the magisters walked the Black City,” Fenris said slowly, almost as if he didn’t believe Hawke.

“Exactly. Lavellan opened a rift under us so we didn’t become bloodstains on some rocks, and into the Fade we went. She tried explaining it to me, but I don’t really understand the magic of her Anchor-thing. I don’t think anyone really does. But we were there, and we were trapped. The spirit of the Divine found us, and somehow managed to get us through to the demon that ruled that part of the Fade. A nightmare demon, of all things.” He laughed, the sound hollow even to his own ears. “Oh, it had fun with me. Everything I fought looked like Mother, like Bethany, like every fucking person I’ve failed. Then Varric got half of us out, and then it was me, the Inquisitor, and Stroud staring down the most terrifying demon I’ve ever seen. I offered to stay and fight it.”

Fenris blinked, sitting upright and fully facing Hawke. “You what?”

“I offered to stay and fight it.”

“That’s what I thought you said. Maybe you have taken a few too many blows to the head, Hawke.”

Hawke shrugged, trying to brush off the trembling. “It’s my fault there’s a walking, talking, boasting ancient magister in existence. I should have been the one to stay and kill that demon, but Stroud wouldn’t hear of it. His last words to me were that I had to get home to you, Fenris. He shoved me at the rift and I fell out of it back onto the ground at Adamant Fortress. I should’ve - I should’ve -”

“Hawke.” Fenris moved quickly, straddling Hawke’s hips as his hands gently gripped the other man’s jaw. Green eyes stared into terrified amber as Fenris sat on him quietly until Hawke’s trembling was no longer as severe, the mage’s hands gripping Fenris’s waist. “Corypheus is not your fault. He is not your responsibility.” 

“My blood is what released him, Fenris, of course-”

“No. Those Wardens would have found a way to free him with or without you, Hawke. It’s not your fault.”

Hawke hesitated before wrapping his arms around Fenris completely. The elf’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand carding through his hair and resting his head atop Hawke’s. “I was terrified, Fenris.” he whispered, hiding his face in Fenris’s neck. “I didn’t think I was getting out of there alive.” 

“No demon will touch you, not while I breathe. I swear it.” He kissed Hawke’s temple before leaning back. “We should get some sleep. We will make plans tomorrow.” Hawke nodded, pulling his pack over to them and shoving it under his head before laying down, refusing to let go of Fenris, but the warrior didn’t bother to fight him, and Hawke was asleep within seconds.

Dawn broke sooner than he’d thought it would, Hawke groaning as a ray from the sunrise ran across his eyes. He rubbed at them as Fenris stretched on top of him, neither of them having moved during the few hours of sleep they’d gotten.

“I still hate mornings,” Hawke muttered. Fenris chuckled, the deep sound something Hawke had missed dearly in his months away. He stoked the fire enough to warm them from the dawn’s chill. “I…got rather heavy last night. I should have waited rather than tell you all of that at once.”

“I’m rather glad you didn’t,” Fenris replied. “You never would have said anything if you didn’t spill it all at once. But next time you decide an idiotic trip is worth it,” he glared at Hawke, “you aren’t leaving me behind.”

Hawke managed a weak smile as his heart flipped. “You have my word.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as sleep left them, and Hawke had time to pull out some dried fruit from his pack for a quick breakfast. While digging, he came across a paper he’d nearly forgotten about. “Fenris?”

“Hm?” the other man looked up at his name, taking the paper that Hawke handed to him. “What’s this?”

“A promise.” Fenris looked at him flatly, eyebrow raised. “I…may have a magister and an altus that owe me a favor or two.” The flat look evolved into a scowl, and Hawke knew he needed to speak fast. “I saved their lives at Adamant, Fenris. They were grateful. And Tevinter is awfully full of slavers, don’t you think?”

He was quiet for a minute as he thumbed at the paper before breaking the seal and opening it. His reading was still slow, but he understood the fancy scrawl typical of a high-born Tevinter. “This is a promise to back any rebellion by those harmed under the heels of the magistrate.”

Hawke nodded. “I may be been a little forcefully persuasive in getting my arguments across, but we have a chance to make things good for people for once.” He rose to his knees, reaching out and catching Fenris’s hand with excitement. “We can destroy everyone who holds chains, and we’ll have help to do it. We can start a revolution, Fenris.”

Fenris stared at him, bewildered and a little amused. Leave it to Hawke to make a revolution sound nothing the like bloody turmoil it is. But Fenris agreed, faintly remembering the songs his mother would hum.  _Deliver us_ , she would sing when she thought he and Varania weren’t listening,  _deliver us to the promised land_.

He could not provide anyone with a promised land that didn’t exist, if there ever was one, but he had learned how to strike at chains and bite at the hands that feed, and he was more than willing to teach that to anyone else. 

Fenris gripped Hawke’s hand, a grin tugging at his lips. “To Minrathous, Hawke.” 

 


	2. Inn a Thunderstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shorter route it usually the route that's going to win out, but that doesn't mean it's the best one.

The journey began slowly, as most do, including what Hawke felt was a tradition of bickering about what route to take. He argued to go through Orlais; with the Inquisition's forces there in strength, they had the best chance at avoiding suspicion and a lesser chance of having to fight their way out of any troubles. Fenris argued to go through Nevarra; not only was it the shorter route, but they would be crossing the Waking Sea to Cumberland, where restocking would be easier and more sympathetic to having Hawke in the area. 

Hawke really didn't want to admit he had a point. The short time he'd been in Orlais when he was working with the Inquisition, they couldn't seem to be able to get rid of him fast enough, but he still considered it the better option. It would take longer, yes, but that would give them more time to come up with a more cohesive plan than "let's start a revolution, that sounds like fun." Fenris won out in the end, Hawke unable to convince him that the longer route held more opportunities.

After another week and a half of hard travel, Hawke was extremely grateful he'd invested in the horse, whom he'd affectionately dubbed Carver since it shared the same stubborn attitude his brother did. They'd skirted just outside of the Dales, not wanting to get caught in the remaining chaos from Orlais's civil war, and Halamshiral, deciding the city's recent events were too risky to chance staying there. So they pushed on, finally reaching Jader, completely exhausted. Thankfully they found an inn that was willing to accommodate them as storm clouds began building on the horizon. 

Fenris had gone up to the room first, leaving Hawke to tie Carver to the post at the inn's stables - and managed not to snicker too much for thinking about it - and began mapping out routes on the map Hawke borrowed from the inn. He doubted the couple that owns the place was getting it back, if he were honest with himself. 

"Busy staring a hole in the table?" Hawke's voice interrupted his thoughts, making sure he locked the door behind him as he came in. "We can relax for a little while at least, you know." 

Fenris sighed as Hawke stopped next to him, the mage's hand coming up and rubbing soothing circles on his back. Fenris leaned into the touch readily. "I know. But I'd like to have an idea of where we'll be going."

"Well, we've got to get to Cumberland, first," Hawke said, tracing a line from Jader to the Free Marcher city, "and we can pick up the Imperial Highway from there. Minrathous is on the other side of the country, we're going to have quite a time getting there."

The warrior hummed. "I don't think we should go for the capital first. It's too obvious, and we don't have the support to take on a city full of powerful mages, Hawke." 

"What about Qarinus?" 

Fenris stared at him. "You cannot be serious." He paused. "You _are_ serious."

"Remember that magister I mentioned owed me a favor? She lives in Qarinus. My bet is she can at the very least equip us best for fighting Tevinters, and maybe we'll get a few allies out of her. I'm not foolish enough to think we can do this alone, Fenris. We're going to have to build up some strong alliances here."

"Good thing you're so charismatic," he snorted, looking back down at the map. Qarinus wasn't a bad idea; it was a major port city, with traffic from Seheron and the western portions of Tevinter frequenting its docks. It would be strategic not only in location, but as somewhere to gather information as well. 

"That's me, I'm a people pleaser!" Hakwe's grin was nearly infectious, but Fenris couldn't bring himself to return it, and it quickly faded into worry. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's not that, I just..." Fenris's voice trailed off as he rubbed a hand over his face. "I am simply tired. It's been a long day."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in mood. Obviously something was bothering the other man, but if he didn't want to talk about it, Hawke wasn't going to push him. "It has been. So why don't we make use of that tub over in the corner there?" Fenris looked over his shoulder to where Hawke had inclined his head. He hadn't even noticed the stone tub, he'd been so absorbed in his thoughts. Hawke wrapped his arms around Fenris, setting his chin onto his shoulder. "Come on, let's do it. I can have some water warmed up in no time."

He smiled as he slipped out of Hawke's grip, the latches of his armor clinking together as he removed them, the items landing haphazardly on the floor as he stripped. "Are you coming, Hawke?" he asked, peering over his shoulder. Hawke flushed, jerking to remove the fur and simple leathers he wore for travel as quickly as he could. Fenris had the tub filled from the wall pump by the time the other man finished, and after a few moments of concentrated heat, Hawke warmed the water up to where steam was rising from it easily. Thunder boomed nearby as they settled into the tub, Hawke sprawling out across it as much as he could, knees still poking out above the water as his legs were too long to fully stretch out. Fenris leaned back against his chest, letting the heat from the bath soothe away the sore muscles from riding that blighted horse for so long. 

Fenris sighed as Hawke's hands slid up to the back of his neck, kneading the taut muscle that had begun to cramp. The thought that Hawke knew his tells well enough to know when something was aching before he even noticed would have terrified him a few years ago, but now? It had become normal, because he knew Hawke just as well. Whether it was the slight twitch of the man's lip before he started cursing up a storm or a certain tenseness in his shoulders that meant he was feeling the weight of the world on them again, Fenris could read the man better than any book he'd come across. 

Things have gotten better, he thought, since they'd learned to share their weights with each other. Things didn't feel as bleak with Hawke at his side, and he only hoped the other man felt the same. 

"If we ever stop running, I do believe you could open a business with this, Hawke," Fenris said, voice as relaxed as he felt, eyes closed as Hawke's fingers applied pressure across his shoulders, the residue from the magic used to heat the water keeping his hands warm as they splayed across his lover's skin. The rain that was now pounding on the nearby window added to the quiet nature their night was developing.

He knew Hawke was grinning without needing to look. "What, demonstrating my massage skills on you?" 

"Insufferable," he chuckled. "You know what I mean, Hawke. You're good at this."

Hawke kissed the side of his neck, hands running down his arms to lace their fingers together. "I'm rather content sharing my services with just you, and I do believe you wouldn't like me being like this with anyone other than you." 

"This is true," he admitted. "You should teach me how to do this; I could do it for you as well."

"You don't owe that to me, Fenris," Hawke said, reading into the statement, one arm wrapping firmly around Fenris's waist as he all but curled around the elf. "What was it I said last time I was really drunk? We're two halves of a whole or something?"

Fenris couldn't stop the smile spreading on his face, the warm feeling of affection towards this ridiculous mage more normal than it used to be, although he didn't think it would ever stop giving him a rush. "You _were_ exceptionally drunk that night, but yes, that is what you said."

Hawke nodded firmly. "And it's still true. You owe me nothing. You've given me us, Fenris, and that's more than I'd ever dared hope I'd have in this life."

Fenris turned around, moving carefully as not to slosh water over the edge of the tub, resting on Hawke's thighs with his hands framing the other man's jaw, fingers stroking along his cheekbones. "What happened in the Fade is still bothering you, isn't it?" Hawke looked down, but nodded. "Fear is nothing to be ashamed of, Hawke."

"I've faced death before, Fenris. I don't fear it. Usually, I laugh at whatever or whoever it is that's trying to kill me. But this?" He took a shuddering breath before continuing. "Like I said, it was a literal nightmare. The kind of demon that doesn't need any vessel into our world; fears come to it, it doesn't have to seek them out. It knows what darkness you have inside you, what parts no light can reach." Fenris reached for a blade as Hawke talked, slowly starting to shave off the beard that had become unkempt as they'd traveled. Hawke never once flinched as it ran lightly across his skin, and Fenris really didn't want to look into how much implied trust that meant Hawke had in him. "Sometimes I still feel like it's going to find me in the Fade when I'm asleep. Maybe Stroud failed, maybe it isn't really dead. Maybe I'm just paranoid at this point." 

Fenris didn't reply as he finished the other side of Hawke's face, a light brush of stubble remaining of the thick beard he'd grown out. He rubbed at it as Fenris moved the blade back outside of the tub. "Doubt will always haunt you about this, Hawke. I wish it did not, but it will, and I cannot take that away from you, as much as I would like to. But you are not alone with your burdens. You don't have to chase any demon on your own."

Hawke tilted his head up, hand tangling in Fenris's hair as he slanted their lips together, kissing him soundly. "I love you, you know that? I don't know where I'd be without you."

"And I you, Hawke. You'd likely still be in that forest chasing that stubborn horse of yours."

Hawke scoffed. "I took my eyes off of him for about five seconds and he charged off, that's _not_ my fault."

"And yet I was still the one he came to when we went to find him. Clearly he acknowledges responsibility."

"You wound me, Fenris."

He snorted, pushing himself up from the tub and grabbing one of the shirts that had been discarded to dry himself with; it seems they'd forgotten to get towels from one of the inn workers. He threw it to Hawke as the man hoisted himself out of the tub after him, not bothering with more than cotton breeches and leggings to sleep in. They fell asleep to the sound of the rain pounding against the walls of the inn, Hawke tucked against Fenris's shoulder and arm around his waist. 

He awoke a few hours later, feeling heat against his skin. Confused, he shoved the sheets off of him before realizing that Fenris was nowhere to be seen. 

"Fenris?" he nearly yelled. Smoke had started coming into the room from the hallway, sure sign of the inn going up in flames. Jumping out of bed, he scrambled into his clothing and grabbed his pack before kicking the door out, making sure to cover his nose and mouth as smoke assaulted him. One end of the hall was completely engulfed in flames, and they were spreading quickly. The inn shook as the beams supporting the ceiling began to give way as the fire devoured them, and Hawke took off running for the stables - it was the only place he could think of that Fenris would have gone.

Only the stables had already gone up, the flames having overtaken them and swallowing whatever had been inside of them. He was sick to his stomach; he hadn't had the horse long, but he never wanted to lose the beast in such a way. 

 _Where in the hell are you?_ he wondered, no longer able to beat down any worry about Fenris. He hadn't seen anyone aside from himself leave the building, and that was more concerning than how it caught fire.

He couldn't handle being the only survivor. Not again.

Not at the cost of Fenris. 

Panic seeping in, Hawke took off back into the burning building, trying to cast an ice spell over himself so the flames would not harm him or catch on his clothing, but it did not stop the oppressive heat that his entire body felt. "Fenris!" he screamed. "Anyone! Please, is anyone alive in here!?" He kicked at the debris he could, looking for clothing, a head of hair, any sign of another survivor.

"Did you think you could walk away from me so easily?" 

Hawke spun on his heel at the deep rasp of a voice. "What?" Why would anyone caught in a fire say that, of all things? Had someone been hunting him since he left the Inquisition? Or had someone been hunting Fenris for even longer? "Show yourself!" he demanded, missing his staff more than ever. It had been the first thing sacrificed when he went on the run; a staff was the first giveaway for a mage, after all. 

Whoever the voice belonged to didn't need a face connected to it to know Hawke was being sneered at. "In due time, Hawke." A boom shook the building, Hawke narrowly dodging a beam that came crashing down to his right as the voice chanted his name, feeling like it was getting closer to him every time it was chanted. Hawke, Hawke, _Hawke_ -

"Hawke!"

The mage bolted upright, waking with a start and covered in sweat, his ears ringing and breathing hard. Fenris had had a hand on his shoulder, but dropped it next to Hawke as he awoke. "Hawke, it's just me," Fenris said, keeping his voice as level as he could.

Hawke stared at him, eyes wild and panicked, his heart pounding fast enough that he was sure he would fall over dead from it.

"You're safe." Fenris slowly reached out, covering Hawke's hand with his own. He understood nightmares of such a nature better than most; they weren't something you could run from, and they would always be there to greet you when you least expected them. He might not know what exactly it was that Hawke saw, but he knew the look in Hawke's eyes far too well; he's seen it reflected in his own too many times to count. "We're at an inn in Jader. No one has come into the room but us." Hawke's pulse began slowing down after another minute or so, and he turned his hand to grip Fenris's tightly. "Are you alright?" 

"No," he replied, voice hoarse. He guess he'd actually yelled out in his sleep, and that was what must have woken Fenris. "I'm sorry if I woke you, I didn't mean to."

"Don't be ridiculous, this is not a burden. You're not alright, and...I want to help."

"You being here helps, Fenris. More than you know." He squeezed his hand one more time before getting out of the bed, filling the basin by the tub with just enough water to splash his face. "I'm not even sure that was a nightmare."

He heard the sheets moving as Fenris left the bed as well. "It certainly sounded like one."

Shaking his head, Hawke explained. "No. I felt a presence. That wasn't a nightmare. Something's following us, Fenris, and it isn't something friendly."

Bright green eyes looked hard at him, determined. "It won't be coming near us without a fight." Hawke nodded, beginning to feel week as the panic left his body. Fenris sighed, tension fading out of him as he took Hawke's arm. "There's not much we can do tonight. We'll get some sleep and figure it out in the morning. Perhaps there is a ward or charm that can aid us."

"When we get to Nevarra, I need to meet with one of their mortalitasi. Maybe they can see what undead creature or demon I pissed off this time."

"We will deal with that when we reach the border, Hawke. Sleep." Fenris tugged the mage back against him, fingers playing with his hair, something that had proven time and time again to persuade Hawke to sleep, and it didn't take long for slumber to claim both of them.

In the shadows, something was watching, but a predator had patience.

All it had to do was wait for the prey to stumble. 


	3. Cumberland Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Fenris finally arrive in Cumberland, and they head straight to the College of Magi.

It took nearly five days to finally reach Cumblerland, much to Hawke’s relief. He’d never been one for travel, and his trip fleeing to Kirkwall did not endear him to ships in the slightest. 

After emptying himself of the little lunch he’d been able to eat, Hawke’s first decision was to procure a map for themselves. They’d decided to head to the College of Magi first, and hope that someone there could help them figure out what Hawke had seen in the nightmare before they’d left Jader.

“Are you certain that entering a Circle is a good idea for you, given the state of things?” Fenris asked, raising his eyebrow at Hawke as the other man figured out where they were in the city. “We are not so far from Kirkwall for you to be unknown.”

Hawke sighed. “I’ve grown my hair out and had my tattoos treated, Fenris. I don’t exactly look the same as I did a few years ago.” Fenris hummed, but gave no further response. Hawke folded the map into a square, pointing out a small intersection to him. “I’m fairly certain this is where we are, so the College should only be a mile or two northwest of us.”

“I wonder why they put it so close to the center of the city,” Fenris wondered. “I’m not familiar with Nevarran customs.”

Hawke shrugged, tucking the map into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I don’t think they’re as strict here as Kirkwall was. Then again, I don’t think anywhere was as bad as the Gallows was.” 

The setting sun highlighted the buildings as they made their way through the city, passing easily through the crowd as everyone seemed perfectly content to go about their own days. Hawke was grateful no one spared them a second glance. 

The duo arrived at the College, a building that reminded Hawke of what he thought a palace should look like. The golden dome at the center of the building shone in the dying light, the red dome next to it falling into a purple as darkness fell. Columns lined the front, and a fountain was set in the middle of the gardens of the approach. Whatever this was, it was the opposite of Kirkwall’s Gallows.

And, he had to admit, he was impressed.

Two guards stood at the main door - Hawke couldn’t tell if they were templars or not, but they let he and Fenris pass without incident, staring straight ahead over the courtyard. Glossy tiles lined the floor of the interior, with more columns similar to those outside along the hallways, with priceless artifacts and art hung on the walls and plush couches in between them.

“Can I help you?” Hawke turned to see a woman, only about ten years older than himself, smiling at him. “We aren’t convening for the College with the war raging to the south, if that was what you were here for.”

“Ah, no,” Fenris replied. “My partner here has had a rather disturbing dream, and we came here seeking advice.”

She looked at Hawke, vaguely critical and a little skeptical. “We do not service simple nightmares here, messeres.” Her accent rolled her r’s rather harshly, Hawke noticed. He wasn’t sure where she was actually from. “And I doubt you would suddenly come into your magic this late in your life.”

Hawke sighed, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “No, I’ve known I was a mage since I was - what, nine, I think? I don’t remember when I accidentally set the wash on fire.” Fenris snorted. Hawke ignored him. “I would prefer not to give all the details so out in the open, if you don’t mind. A lot of places aren’t very friendly to me right now.”

The woman stared Hawke down once again before beckoning both of them to follow her to a room through an incredibly intricate door. She pressed her palm to a small rune near it, and the door glimmered after it shut. “It’s a soundproofing charm. This is one of the rooms where we usually test children who are brought to us to see what they can do.”

“I’m impressed,” Hawke admitted. “I’ve never seen a Circle like this before. You’re so friendly compared to where I’ve been.”

“You’re not the first to say that.” She sat down on the small chair near the corner of the room, gathering her dress behind her legs. “Now, I am Senior Enchanter Sidre of the Cumberland Circle. What can I do to help you?” 

“You’ve probably heard of me,” he blurted out. She simply raised a brown eyebrow at him. “My name is Eldrun Hawke, formerly known as the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Ah, one of the instigators.”

He smiled ruefully. “Yes. And I’ve recently been with the Inquisition, leading to some...eventful events.” He once again ignored Fenris’s snort of laughter at his phrasing and pressed on. “I came across a nightmare demon in my time with them, and I’m concerned it may have focused on me to some degree. I didn’t know if another mage or perhaps one of the mortalitasi would be able to figure out what exactly it was that I felt.” 

Sidre’s face was blank, studying Hawke carefully. “Nightmare demons are powerful creatures,” she began, “and if you _truly_ encountered one, I would not be surprised if you caught its attention. Do you have any history of nightmares, imbalances of the humors, or any problems with your magic?”

“I’ve had problems with depression most of my life, Enchanter -”

She waved a hand at him. “Sidre, please.”

“...Sidre. It’s rendered me unable to access my magic before, and it’s usually recurring, although not always at that intensity.” 

“You’re a prime target for this demon, then.” He frowned as she stood. “Follow me. One mage will not be enough to solve your problem.” They followed Sidre up a curved flight of stairs until they reached the end of a hallway. “This is one of the suites we keep for the meeting of the College. Please wait here while I gather a few others, and I will be back shortly.”

She swept her dress into her hands and strode off quickly, leaving Hawke and Fenris alone once again. “Well, at least she believes me.”

“I’m hoping she doesn’t bring in any templars,” Fenris said. “If they suspect a demon of tracking you...”

“I don’t think they’ll be so harsh here, Fenris.” He sat own on the double bed the room provided, groaning as he laid back. “Maker, I missed what an actual bed felt like.”

“We were at an inn not even a week ago, Hawke.”

“But that was _different_ ,” the mage whined. “This feels like a _real_ bed.”

“Just as you’re a real boy?”

Hawke blew a lock of hair out of his face to glare at Fenris’s smirk. “You like mocking me far too much.”

A knock at the door caused Hawke to rise as Fenris opened it. Sidre stood in the doorway, and once again motioned them to follow her. 

Two more winding hallways and half a flight of stairs later, Hawke realized they’d arrived in the room with the red, almost purple, dome. A long table was seated under velvet tapestry, filled with who he assumed to be other senior enchanters. 

A hush fell across the table as Sidre approached, the duo in tow. “We must speak to the mage alone,” a bearded mage at the end of the table said, voice worn with age. 

Fenris scowled. “Not a chance.”

“I will have you removed, elf -”

“You may _try_ -”

“Enough!” A voice commanded as it entered the room. The room turned to see a petite elf enter, her presence alone demanding everyone’s attention. “I come here once again after the disaster of our last meeting and again you are threatening people, Holde?”

“Enchanter Fiona?” Hawke said, confused. “But - what?”

Fiona stared at him for a moment. “That’s Grand Enchanter, Hawke. At least to whatever’s left of this excuse of a College.”

“How in the Maker’s name did you get here so quickly?”

“You took the long route. Your dwarf was not as careful as he could have been about his letters.” She waved her hand at him. “None of that matters. We have been briefed on your situation, and we need to send someone into the Fade to see exactly what it is we’re up against.” 

“I’m in this situation because I was in the Fade, Grand Enchanter,” Hawke replied. “I’m certain you were still at Skyhold when we returned from Adamant Fortress.” 

“I am aware of the Inquisitor’s actions, Hawke. What I need to know is exactly what’s following you. And if it is the same demon that my - that Warden Alistair fought, we need to move immediately.” 

“Alright. What do I need to do?”

“I will be following you into the Fade. I will need to temporarily bind you to your partner so you have a center, so the Fade does not allow you to get lost in it, and then the other Enchanters will send us in. Do you understand?”

Fenris realized the last question was directed at him. “I do. I hope this does not involve blood magic, however.”

Fiona shook her head. “If it were permanent, yes, but this only needs to last for a few hours at most. It will bind your minds together, and you will know if something goes wrong or if the demon poses too great a danger to us.” Fenris nodded as she turned towards the table. “Sidre, you will be directing us into the Fade and maintaining the spell. Arinna, Catelina, Markus, Holde - you will be maintaining the central barrier that will allow us to be unseen. Mira and Orlen, I want you watching Hawke specifically. Only one templar is to be allowed inside this room, am I clear?”

Murmurs of agreement came from the table as they rose, assembling a few couches in a circle around Hawke and Fiona. The two mages sat on floor, Hawke’s hand linked with Fenris’s as Fiona cast the binding charm. Sidre spoke in rapid Arcanum as the four barrier mages took a shot of lyrium each, and the last thing he saw were Fenris’s furrowed eyebrows as his world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry it took so long to write more for this. Real life has been consistently handing me my ass and I haven't had time to do absolutely anything that wasn't work or school related. 
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone who's stuck around, and please let me know what you think!


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